


Kiljam Power Hour

by kilgon (flowerslug)



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Boats and Ships, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29387919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerslug/pseuds/kilgon
Summary: Moments between Jammy and Kilgon.
Relationships: "Jammy" Jambert & Kilgon Dirthrae, "Jammy" Jambert/Kilgon Dirthrae
Kudos: 4
Collections: Reincarnation





	1. Kiljam Ship

Jammy stares at Kilgon as he flings his arms into the air in excitement. “I think I finally got this star mappin’ shit down!” Kilgon exclaims, shoving the aforementioned map into Jammy’s face. Jammy pushes it back a little. 

“That’s pretty cool, dude. I never really got the hang of that stuff myself. It wasn’t exactly my job to navigate, y’know?”

Kilgon sighs and drops down beside Jammy on the chair next to him. They were in what was considered the captain’s quarters, a room that Kilgon insisted they share. He might make all of the tactical decisions, but Jammy was the one who actually carried them out, Kilgon had pressed. It was better than sharing with the crew, so Jammy accepted it without much thought. Jammy knew that Kilgon was quieter in private and usually focused on whatever he was interested in, so it was a pretty sweet deal.

“They should have given you more credit,” Kilgon says in the silence. 

“What? Who?” Jammy asks in confusion, looking at how Kilgon was fiddling with a pen he had picked off of the table in front of them.

“Your old crew,” Kilgon clarifies, eyes focused on the pen. “You’re-” He pauses to clear his throat. “You’re pretty good at this kind of thing. Leading and stuff.”

Jammy blinks. “Oh. Thanks.” 

Silence fills the air for a moment before Kilgon shoots up. “One thing this ship doesn’t have enough of is COOL pirate hats, though!” Kilgon points dramatically at Jammy. “Not a single one of us has a sick ass pirate hat!”

Jammy smiles and leans back, eyes following the erratic hand. “Oh damn, you’re right. We need to get on that, stat.” 

When Jammy had first met Kilgon, the only emotion he had felt was the rush of self-preservation. It was either die or become this guy’s “best friend.” It was an easy choice to make. It was also, strangely enough, the perfect moment to shed his old name. He had never liked keeping a name that was stolen from another for him, but that had been his fate. It’s not like he could just say “I’m changing my name to something cooler just because.” That would have only made his crewmates call him his old name with more glee. He could accept Jambert. It was kind of silly, but it was his. Jammy was a cool nickname, anyway. He had never heard of another Jammy before.

Jammy watches Kilgon nimbly jot down whatever idea had taken his attention. At first, he had stayed with Kilgon for the protection he provided Jammy. Jammy had no idea why this man was so determined to keep him alive, but he would take what he could get. Those weirdos Kilgon hung around were so murder hungry. They needed to chill. Maybe take a moment to breathe. It’s not like they hadn't just killed some of his crewmates, what’s the issue with getting a sick sword from some dead guy? He hadn’t been close with those crewmates, but he still knew them by name. Rosolis, Gwenra, Cormac. Kadir had gotten away at least. Good for him.

Jammy tilts his head in interest as Kilgon suddenly switches to drawing something. Kilgon was strange and loud in one moment, but completely silent in others. It was a little uncanny to witness the first time he had seen how Kilgon acted in front of his party members versus how he acted when he was sitting in his room. The man put on such an audience for those people. He seemed to revel in their annoyance, delight in their pained groans. When he sat in his room, a lot of that bravado disappeared. He was still weird, don’t get Jammy wrong. But he didn’t really go out of his way to drive people crazy. He seemed more relaxed. Jammy had thought to himself, “Why is he showing me this?”

It becomes clear that Kilgon is drawing some outrageous concept of a “cool pirate hat.” Jammy watches as he adds another feather to the hat. Jammy supposes he really isn’t a good person in the traditional goody two shoes way. He was ambivalent to a lot of the suffering around him. That was just life for him. He had spent the majority of it on a pirate ship, watching countless people die before his eyes. What happens, happens. No point in dwelling on it for too long. It felt strange to have Kilgon defend him, a complete stranger, about this aspect of himself. 

“He killed people!” The cat one yelled.

“So have we!” Kilgon shouted right back, his body draped over Jammy’s in a way that made Jammy hyper-aware of his own body in a way he wasn’t used to.

“That’s different,” she shot back at him. 

And Kilgon had said, “Why?”

Why was it different was the question. Whatever the reason, if you want to have the moral high ground on this, it really hurts your point when you’ve done exactly the same thing. Oh yeah sure, the other person was “evil,” so it was different. As if your sense of morality is better and more right than anyone else’s. It’s not like Jammy liked taking the life of others. Besides, those stupid rock people were already dead. Maybe those fish shouldn’t have been storing souls in rocks anyone can grab. He just thought it was all a bit hypocritical is all. It all turned out fine in the end, he supposes.

When Kilgon had stood there looking at the people Jammy assumed he was close to all leave one by one, he had looked so small. He hadn’t said a word as he watched them disappear. Jammy stared at Kilgon as Kilgon tried to pretend he wasn’t laser-focused on everyone else. After the last of them had left, Jammy had said to Kilgon, “So where are we going?” Kilgon stared at Jammy. Jammy stared back. They left together.

Kilgon was pretty funny. Jammy liked watching him put on a show for others just to drive them crazy. It was calculated in a way he couldn’t really describe. Jammy was a little reluctant to be a part of Kilgon’s shenanigans at first, but the more time he spent with the man, the more easily he gave into whatever whim had taken over Kilgon. When Kilgon had gleefully told him about a spell that would let him track Jammy down and know Jammy’s general feelings, Jammy looked at his face and before he could think about it, simply said, “Okay.”

Even when Kilgon asked him if he could put the mark on his face, Jammy looked into his hopeful eyes and let out a breathy, “Only if it’s cool.” The grin that lit up Kilgon’s face made him feel warm in an uncomfortable way. It  _ was  _ a cool mark, so it was a win-win, Jammy reasoned with himself.

Kilgon lifts up the finished drawing to show Jammy. It had at least three feathers and one of those stereotypical skull and crossbones designs on it, but the left eye had a scar that matched Kilgon’s. Jammy thinks that Kilgon doesn’t know that he's seen that eye he always hides away. When Kilgon had used some wizard power of his and fallen limp against Jammy’s shoulder (a moment he keeps carefully stored in the back of his mind), his hair fell away from his hidden eye. Something about the magic made Kilgon’s eyes both wide open despite how he clearly couldn’t see out of them at the time. Jammy didn’t think it looked so bad that it needed to be hidden. He actually thought it was cool. Mismatching eyes always looked cool. But it was clearly something Kilgon wanted to keep hidden, so he kept it to himself.

“Sooo…” Kilgon drawled. “What are the chances of this taking off?”

Jammy restrained an amused smirk. “I think the audience is a little too small for this one.”

“Nooooooooo!” Kilgon theatrically play sobbed, throwing the paper in the air as he plopped his head on Jammy’s shoulder. “My dreams are ruined.”

Jammy looked at Kilgon and thought about how he had never had someone so invested in his opinion before. Someone who took his words and considered them carefully. Jammy gently slings an arm over Kilgon for reasons he can’t really put into words.

“Maybe if we advertise it the right way,” he amends. The arms that Kilgon flings around him as the other man softly cheers make Jammy think about how he made the right decision to stay.


	2. Nicknames

Kilgon looks up from the game of Go Fish (cheating encouraged) he was playing with Jammy and Gonkil, placing a hand underneath his chin.

“Jammy?”

Jammy’s eyes meet Kilgon’s. “Yeah?”

Kilgon pouts and lets out an, “If I asked you to call me ‘Kilgy,’ would you?”

Jammy blinks at this and sets down his cards. It was a strange question, but nothing out of the ordinary for Kilgon. “Why would you want me to call you that? It’s a little silly.”

Kilgon lets out a breath of air. “I dunno, it just seems kinda fun to have a dumb nickname. I can never convince anyone to use one for me, though.” He averts his eye to some decorations he had haphazardly made for their living space as he picks up a piece of his hair with his other hand to fidget with.

Jammy pauses. “I guess I’ve never really given anyone a nickname, so it wouldn’t have really occurred to me in the first place.” His eyes follow Kilgon’s as the other man slowly looks back to him. “Who else did you try to get that nickname to stick with?”

Kilgon let out a light laugh. “Remember that guy that was helping to teach you to read? I kinda said it as a joke to him, but it was still a little disappointing when he never did it.”

“Oh.” Something about that annoyed Jammy in a way he couldn’t quite place. “Well, if I give you a nickname, I want it to be something unique. Something cool maybe.”

A grin split Kilgon’s face at this, and Jammy couldn’t help but smile back. “Really?! Do you have any ideas or do you want some more time to dwell on it?” Kilgon rushes out.

Jammy squints with a click of his tongue. “Hm. I dunno,” he says, contemplative. “Wait.” He puts both hands on the table. “What about just ‘Kill’? Like, with two L’s. You know, like the murder word?” He had made sure he knew how to spell that word.

Kilgon snorts, covering his mouth. “That’s so dumb. I love it. But only YOU can call me Kill with two L’s!” he exclaims.

“Haha, yeah. Nobody else is cool enough for that extra L. They gotta keep that L for themselves,” Jammy joins in, pleased with Kilgon’s enthusiasm.

“HA!!!” Kilgon just about shouts. “Take the L you stupid idiots, it’s for you!”

He reaches out for a high five and Jammy’s hand reaches across the table to complete it.


	3. Night

The rain pitter-pattered against the walls of the room as Kilgon loomed over him. It was the middle of the night, the room dark and silent. Jammy, bleary from sleep, mumbled, “You need somethin’?”

Kilgon startled, eyes darting to Jammy’s own. He pauses, mouth in a straight line. “This is not as creepy as it may initially appear,” Kilgon finally said, feet audibly shifting back and forth. When they had decided on sharing a room, Kilgon had given Jammy the bed. “I don’t even technically sleep, I’m an elf,” he had jauntily crowed. “I will give you the captain’s bed, whilst I do as I always do and meditate peacefully on my own.” Jammy had readily agreed, happy enough to have a bed bigger than he ever personally used. When you’re just a random crewmate, you don’t exactly get high class.

When Jammy shifted under the comforter, he realized what might be the problem. It was cold enough to give him goosebumps. “Did you,” he takes an inaudible gulp, unable to believe what he was about to say. “Want to-” He stops himself and instead slowly lifts the covers up. Kilgon’s stare bores into him, his expression unreadable. Just as he fears he might have read the situation wrong, the other man gingerly slides down beside him. Jammy had never shared a bed with anyone before. He had never had someone close enough or in need enough to experience that with. It felt like something a cool guy wouldn’t be nervous about, so he was a little embarrassed about the trepidation running through his veins.

“Maybe it would have been a good idea to buy some extra blankets,” Kilgon murmured, a small smile etched onto his face. There was about a foot of space between the two. It was a large bed. Jammy had never wished for the kind of weak darkvision humans possessed, but in that moment he was tempted. When you share a bed with someone else, you can feel them shift through the springs of the bed, hear them breathe.

“This isn’t weird,” Kilgon declared, gathering the comforter in his hands. He had that look of determination he got when he wanted something to be reality very badly and is willing to bullhead his way through making it so. “I have actually never been in a weird situation in my life, ask anyone and they can corroborate.” Despite his brazen declaration, the elf’s eyes refused to meet Jammy’s. Jammy laid his hands in the space between the two of them.

“You’re right. You don’t lie, everyone knows that,” Jammy said, a smile dancing across his face. Kilgon was so full of it, but it’s not like they both didn’t already know that. It was a part of his charm, for better or worse.

Kilgon pulled himself closer to Jammy in a rush of excited fervor. “YES!” He shouted before realizing his volume and continuing at a more acceptable level. “Yes! You get it, Jam. You understand my struggles through this world better than anyone else.” Kilgon’s head flopped back down, much closer to Jammy than before. Jammy had no idea if he was aware of what he just did.

His breath caught in his throat when in the lull of conversation, Kilgon picked up one of his hands and studied it. “Are your claws naturally red like this?” Kilgon asked. “I don’t really know a lot about tiefling physiology.” Kilgon picked up each of his fingers one by one as if he was trying to figure out if there was any difference between them.

“Well, I’m not really-” Kilgon picks up his other hand. “-I’m not really a tiefling per se. At least not in the normal sense.” 

Kilgon measured up his right hand with Jammy’s left. “Our hands are about the same left, but my fingers are thinner,” he veered off, seemingly forgetting that he had asked a question. Jammy looked at their connected hands and without permission from even himself, curled his fingers around the other’s. He glanced up and Kilgon, his eyes open wider than usual, mouth agape. 

“You have really cold hands,” Jammy faltered. It was true, but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind until it left his mouth.

Kilgon snorted at that, eyes crinkling as he squeezed the hand in his. “I’m sorry we can’t all have toasty warm hands, Jammy. Sometimes you’re just born with cold hand syndrome.” The tense feeling that had been reverberating through Jammy’s blood, fell away as if it was never there at that. What was he so worked up about? It was just Kilgon, with his constant whimsy and his feelings that hid behind words with double meanings.

Jammy grabbed Kilgon’s other hand and pulled them close to his face, blowing hot air on them. “There,” he started. “Now you have my special warm hand germs all over your hands, granting you all the responsibilities that come with warm hands. Bread-making for one.”

“Breading-making?!” Kilgon trilled. “How did you know about my one secret lifelong dream?”

“Best friends just know this kinda thing, Kill,” Jammy solemnly said. “If you don’t know your best friend’s feelings on the art of baking bread, are you really friends?”

Kilgon let out a loud cackle. “True, true! All of those fake best friends out there want what we have! Which is to say, bread!” Kilgon sighed, looking around the dim room. “Only in spirit, though. Hey!” His attention zeroed back in on Jammy’s face. “Tomorrow, let’s make some bread!”

Jammy felt the two hands in his own, deciding to leave them as is. “I thought you would never ask.”


End file.
